


Envenomated

by mantisbelle



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Foreplay, Grinding, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Memory Loss, No Smut, Poison, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9598352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/pseuds/mantisbelle
Summary: Qrow's from an interesting line of work that puts him in contact with a lot of interesting people. Sometimes, he loses the luck of the draw and unknowingly ends up alone with Salem's assassin. It's a good time as long as its all in good fun, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AniPendragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniPendragon/gifts).



> This was a lot of fun for a fic written at one in the morning! Hope you guys enjoy it!
> 
> The original premise for the fic come from a prompt I got from Anipendragon on Tumblr, which was Tyrian/Qrow and "What the hell is in your pants?"

Qrow was usually in the business of just trying to gather information, and killing monsters as he tried to make that happen. Technically, it was a side job and he had a day job back at Signal Academy, but this was the one he preferred.

Gathering information and protecting the world was a full time job. It meant that it was hard on his friends and family, and usually he wouldn’t have the time to be able to slip away and enjoy himself especially for more than an hour or two at a time.

But there were some magical times where he would be able to let work and pleasure interact, and normally that involved bars and pretty people that didn't mind getting dragged off to bed by a stranger for a night. Usually they were dangerous people, but as long as Qrow could keep a low enough profile, that wasn’t such a big deal.

In his experience, even the most dangerous were willing to roll over for a little while and call truces if it meant they got a few minutes to relax, as long as it was agreed and on equal terms.  
  
It was this sort of thing that left Qrow stumbling into a small bar in Mistral with nothing to do. He was tired- he’d been sent off on a wild anseri chase in search of the newest host for the fall maiden’s power and nothing had turned up yet.

As a result, Qrow was frustrated and tired, and he wanted a drink and a good night more than anything else at that point. Not that he thought that was something that he could actually make happen, bad luck and all. His empty wallet was also a concern that would get in the way. .  
  
Normally he'd just hope that his charm alone could get him drinks and rooms.  
  
Tonight, he wasn't so sure that he’d be able to pull it off.  
  
The particular bar that he'd chosen had seemed like it would be a comfortable enough place to stay. Qrow didn't mind how fancy the place would be so much, being raised as a bandit meant that he was more than used to sleeping on the ground and roughing it. At the end of the day, his biggest concern was just that he’d have a roof over his head and a warm place to sleep.

When he walked in, the bar was mostly quiet, aside from one voice that broke above the others.    
  
Qrow swallowed, unsure of whether or not he'd heard that voice somewhere before. It was always possible- he had to rub shoulders with a lot of people as a result of his job. It wouldn’t have been the first time that he’d accidentally run into a familiar face that he’d forgotten about.

Finding the source of the voice wasn't hard.  
  
In fact, there wasn’t a man alive that could have missed the sight of a man with a long braid that trailed down his back sitting on a bar counter cross-legged as he told an elaborate story about a donkey faunus, a honeycomb, and a brothel in Vacuo. Normally Qrow would sit around for this sort of thing, but he was pretty sure that he'd heard this particular story somewhere before. 

Probably just a case of déjà vu.

The door closed behind Qrow with a loud slam, and he felt himself jolt for just a second before getting his composure back.

He wasn’t the only one to react to the sound of the door, though. The man on the table seemed to flinch for a moment at the sound. His hands froze mid-gesture and the man’s face screwed up slightly as he looked around.  
  
Finally two eyes the color of brightly colored gold coins focused on him, and the man on the table smiled a little too widely. "I see we have a newcomer." The man said, bringing his hands together and straightening his back so that he sat up properly.  
  
Qrow let out a snort of amusement before he took a seat at one of the counters.

"Ah, the great Qrow Branwen, here to honor the good people of Anima with his presence." The man stood up on the stool in front of him and an easy forward like he was performing as he climbed down from his perch and back to the same level that Qrow was on.

The guy knew who he was. Qrow couldn't help but to think that it was a little odd, and so he decided to just make himself comfortable and try to size the guy up and figure out what he was dealing. "Yeah," He responded, putting on a cocky smirk.

For the first time he got a look at the other man. He was too muscular to be a civilian, and the fact that he didn’t carry himself like he had a stick up his ass or wear a uniform meant that he wasn’t Atlesian military. This guy was almost certainly a huntsman.

Qrow was pretty sure that he might have had a run in with the guy a few years ago on a mission, but it probably wasn't anything important or menacing. Not that he could be too careful. "Who's asking."  
  
"Well," The man blinked and somehow his smile stretched a little wider. "My name is Tyrian." He stood up straight and took a deep bow, like he was imagining himself on some sort of stage instead of in a bar. "And it is always an _honor_ to be in the presence of one of the great huntsmen of our world."  
  
Qrow snorted in amusement, watching Tyrian’s movements closely as the man stood up straight once more. "How about you finish telling your story, pal-"  
  
That earned a quirk of the lips from Tyrian, who seated himself at one of the stools next to the bar instead of climbing back up on top of it. "There's no story to finish." Tyrian explained. "I mean, the punchline is simple, vespae attack the brothel and everyone is killed, the poor faunus man included." The man stared off into space, almost feigning something along the lines of sadness before looking back at Qrow with a wide smile. "Truly a great tragedy."  
  
Qrow rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder to check whether or not there was going to be a waitress or not there to get him something. "Yeah, I'll say." Qrow mumbled as Tyrian looked at the bartender. He was about to raise a hand to order a drink, but paused when he realized what was going on.

"Excuse me," Tyrian said with a lilt of sorts to his voice. "Could you be so kind as to get the great Mister Branwen something to drink?" His grin widened, and for a second Tyrian actually broke into a fit of giggles.  
  
A smirk split Qrow's face. He was never one to turn down a free drink when given the chance. "I suppose you've got a reason for buying me a drink?"  
  
Tyrian's smile widened and he nodded slowly, his braided hair swaying with the motion.  
  
_Ah._  
  
_So that was it._  
  
"How about this." Qrow leaned in towards the man. "Get me a room, and I'm yours for the night," He paused. "Tyrian, right?"  
  
"That would be correct." Qrow was about to raise a hand to get the waitress' attention so that he wouldn't be the only one going up to the room with some alcohol in his system. "You want some?"  
  
"I prefer to abstain." Tyrian responded, leaning against the counter in a way which was able to show off the long line of his body. Qrow couldn't help but let his eyes wander over Tyrian's frame. The guy was thin, but strong. The criss-cross of scarring across his chest was certainly something to pay attention to. It meant that he was used to getting a bit roughed up.

Qrow could deal with that.

"So." Qrow muttered, setting his drink down. "Why don't you tell me how you were able to recognize me?"  
  
"I saw you compete." Tyrian answered. "Some number of years ago in the Vytal Festival Tournament."

Qrow hummed. He supposed that he hadn't changed that much over the years that he would be considered completely unrecognizable these days. For a moment he realized that he hadn’t changed his hunting clothes in nearly twenty years and wondered whether he should consider an upgrade sometime. Maybe a new cape would be nice."Did you compete?"  
  
"Me?" Tyrian's eyes went wide in surprise and he gestured to himself. "No," He replied, averting his eyes away from Qrow for a second before they flicked back up to him. "I'm afraid not. I never truly was a strong enough competitor for such a thing. Besides, being from outside the kingdoms, such opportunities were limited."  
  
The story made sense, but Qrow wasn't sure about it. He'd been lied to about where people were from plenty of times and he didn't want to be getting caught in the web of someone's lie so easily. Especially when that someone was a random person in a bar that knew him by name.  
  
Besides, this guy was strong enough that he had to be a huntsman at the very least. Qrow could see it in him. Not every huntsman stuck to their righteous path, Qrow knew that. Whether that applied to Tyrian or not was a question in itself.  
  
"Well," Qrow finished the rest of his drink and stood up. "How about you and I continue to get acquainted then, Tyrian?" In that moment, Qrow was able to make his intentions more than just clear, and he even offered Tyrian a hand.  
  
Another fit of giggles escaped Tyrian, and the two of them slipped out of the bar and upstairs to get a room. "I have a room already." Tyrian said through his laughter. "So you don't have to worry yourself over such manners, Qrow Branwen-"  
  
"It's just Qrow."  
  
Tyrian's eyes went a little wide again, almost like he was a puppy that had just been kicked. "Right." He replied. "Qrow." That smile once again widened.  
  
That grin deepened and he stepped in to take greater control of the situation. Qrow felt the way that Tyrian's hands fisted in his shirt, and the hard press of Tyrian's body against his as he was pulled into a kiss felt a little sweeter than it should have.  
  
Qrow was backed into a door, and felt Tyrian release his shirt only for a moment before he unlocked and opened the door and continued to push Qrow through it.

At the last moment, Qrow decided to switch things around, wrapping a strong arm around Tyrian’s waist and flipping their momentum, and he ended up landing with Tyrian under him, something hard pressing into his stomach that almost felt like armor.

Tyrian yelped in pain upon impact.

Qrow sat up, and rubbed at his stomach where he’d hit something, a little unsure of what it could be. Tyrian hadn’t been armed, had he? “ _What the hell is in your pants?_ ” He looked down at Tyrian and watched as the man sat up slightly so that he could unwind a long tail from around himself.

The first thing that Qrow realized was that there was a rounded stinger at the end of it, most definitely that of a scorpion’s.

A rare trait, but it explained a lot of things, Qrow supposed.

“I hope it’ll be no issue to you?” Tyrian asked as he sat up properly until he rested on his knees, almost looking like he was preparing to pray or to bow prostrate before Qrow in worship. “I would have warned you ahead of time, but-” Tyrian’s eyes flickered to the door. “But you are no fool, Qrow. You would know of the struggle of a faunus.”

Qrow hummed. He figured that the guy hiding his tail made sense- arachnid faunus were rare enough on their own, and with tension relating to the White Fang all over the place...  well, hiding was probably just safer. “I’ve got no problem with it.” He reached out and let his fingers travel over the ridges of plating on Tyrian’s tail.

Tyrian whined and shivered in some excitement and scooted back onto the bed. “As long as you have no concern with it-” He turned so that he laid on his right side and smiled up at Qrow, raising a finger so that he could beckon Qrow closer.

Well, a tail was no reason to stop with the fun, Qrow thought to himself before climbing into the bed beside Tyrian and reaching out to pull the man in closer. This was going to have to go one thing at a time, and Qrow had no problem with figuring out how to maneuver this.

To his pleasure, Tyrian just seemed to relax into his touch, and the feeling of soft lips against his neck was enough to confirm that everything was alright to Qrow. He groaned quietly and tilted his head back slightly and just let himself relish in the feeling of soft kisses and even occasional nips at his neck.

Qrow raised his hands to rest them on Tyrian’s hips and was quick to pull the man in close to him. He ground them together, and he could feel Tyrian’s arousal quite prominently against his own. Tyrian let out a high pitched whine and arched his back slightly at the contact. The man’s tail twitched in some excitement, and for just a second Qrow could have _sworn_ that he’d seen Tyrian’s eyes flicker from gold to a violent shade of purple.

It wouldn’t have been the _weirdest_ thing that he’d ever seen in bed.

Qrow flipped them and was sure to pull Tyrian up into his lap. The man balanced there quite handily and leaned forward to press another hard kiss to Qrow’s lips. It was rough, but Qrow was able to relax into it easily enough before reaching up to grab at Tyrian’s shirt and the straps that held it in place and push them out of the way.

Tyrian sat up properly and shrugged out of them.

Qrow watched his eyes flicker again and could feel Tyrian’s tail beginning to wrap around his thigh in affection.

The last thing that he felt before he passed out was Tyrian’s lips on his neck, followed by something sharp shoving into his leg, and the almost instant sensation of his body going hot and feverish.

When Tyrian pulled away from Qrow, his eyes were violet for the few seconds before Qrow passed out.

* * *

When Qrow awoke, he was tied to a bed.

His head was throbbing, and a quick look at his wrists told him that he’d been locked into place there with some short lengths of rope that he figured were probably from his own pack in the time that he’d been unconscious.

He tried to move, but only found that his ankles had been bound as well.

Great, so he was trapped. He supposed he could take some comfort in the fact that he was still wearing all of his clothes and alive, though. Not that it was much.

Sitting on the floor just in view of Qrow and still fully clothed, sat Tyrian. He was rifling through a bag of supplies that Qrow liked to carry on him, and even occasionally tossing something out of the way or over his shoulder when he found something that he didn’t consider to be of any interest.

Once in awhile he’d even mumble something to himself that Qrow could never quite make out.

Qrow blinked. He felt weird, like he’d gone through a severe bout of illness and recovered at an incredibly fast pace- so fast that it had to be unhealthy. Another glance around the room left him with the sight of a small bottle that was sitting on the small table that was on the other side of the room.

Next to it, was a dropper that had been set down on a rag.

Poison? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Wha-” Qrow tried to force a word out. “What did you-”

The man on the floor paused, flipping a photograph over in his hand before looking up at Qrow. “I see you’re awake.”

“Yeah.” Qrow mumbled. “The hell…”

“A strong dose of venom,” Tyrian began to explain nonchalantly, gesturing with the photograph still in hand. “Followed by a small dose of an antivenin that would be enough to counteract. A true necessity to carry.” Tyrian flashed him a grin. “Any wise hunter would carry something of the sort on them.”

Qrow groaned and dropped his head back against the pillow. “Let me go.”

“I don’t believe that I can do that.” Tyrian responded. “You see, I have to please my Goddess, and I doubt that she would be pleased if I were to let you interrupt while I gathered valuable information for her.”

“Infor-” Qrow paused. Froze. He picked his head up and stared at Tyrian as the reality of what was happening finally began to reveal itself. He’d fallen right into the grips of one of Salem’s scouts. And not a normal one at that. “You work fo-”

“A great Queen. Truly unmatched in grace and power.” Tyrian responded before clambering to his feet and up onto the bed and then into Qrow’s lap. He shoved the photograph in Qrow’s face and pointed to one of the people in it. Summer, Qrow recognized. The photo was of Taiyang, Raven, and Summer. Why would Tyrian be interested in Summer?. “A friend of yours?”

“Yeah.” Qrow grumbled, “Why would you-”

“It is no matter, just a story a friend told me.” Tyrian hummed and stood up, stepping back off of the bed and going back to Qrow’s bag. “There has to be something here that’ll be of use.” His eyes flicked up to Qrow. “You don’t carry many useful things on you, you know. All I could find that would help was that rope and your pocketknife.” Tyrian giggled. “And even then, that was a bit dull. My blades were better.”

“How about you let me go before I start screaming.”

“I don’t think you want to do that,” Tyrian answered, shifting and letting his tail travel dangerously close to Qrow’s leg. For the first time, Qrow realized that whatever wound he’d been given had already been treated and wrapped. As far as captors went, Tyrian definitely didn’t seem to be the _worst._

Qrow groaned. “Point taken.” He picked his head up again. “What are you looking for anyways?”

He watched as Tyrian tossed a small pouch that landed against the floors with a metallic sound. Qrow knew that bag- all random trinkets that he’d picked up in his travels that had caught his eye. Usually he was able to use it as a way to trade his way out of situations like this one.

But Tyrian didn’t seem to be interested in sparkly bits and bobs that would be worth a few Lien.

“Oh, just anything that could be of-” Tyrian paused and removed small pouch that Qrow recognized as his rations. “Really?” He closed the bag again. “I do have to say, Qrow Branwen, I am questioning your taste.”

This pouch was set to the side, and Qrow watched as Tyrian reached in again and found a small notebook. The man flipped through it, page after page until he found something and just flipped it shut. Shit, _that_ was bad. Qrow knew the black bound notebook well- it was a dossier of sorts that he’d built up over the years that he was working for Ozpin.

It was everything, every scrap of information he’d ever gathered. It was lists of hunters who had left their paths and how to beat them, rumors about strange weather patterns, old fairy tales, and lists of villages that were in high risk. Not to mention that he tended to leave his map in there.

“I’m guessing you found what you wanted?”

“You could say that, yes.” Tyrian said as he stood up and pocketed the notebook. “I must say, Qrow, I have to thank you for such a lovely night in your company.” The man reached out for one of the ropes. “Though I’m afraid I do have to bid you adieu.”

“Wait, you’re not going to-”

Tyrian blinked, and the gold of his eyes disappeared. When they reopened, his eyes were purple. Qrow felt the sting enter his body again, this time just above the site of Tyrian’s first sting. He let out a gasp of pain and involuntarily struggled against his bonds.

“What-”

“Just a weak hallucinogen.” Tyrian replied as he waited for a moment, arching his back in some sort of sick pleasure. “Just to help you forget, my dear friend. When you wake, you shouldn’t even remember that I was here. Truly a pity, I enjoyed your company when you were awake.”

Qrow groaned and dropped his head back against the pillow again. He needed a drink pretty badly, he found himself thinking. And a way to explain himself to Ozpin. The good thing was that Ozpin would probably understand- Salem’s people didn’t like playing by any rules, and so Qrow was certain he’d find forgiveness.

For several minutes, he found himself just watching as Tyrian cleaned up the mess that he’d made.

When he passed out, he was almost sure that he’d heard the man singing some sort of lullaby that he’d never heard before.

* * *

Qrow awoke again, this time to an empty room.

His head was throbbing and he felt like he had a terrible hangover. There was no sign that anything had happened the night before aside from him coming to some room in an inn drunk.

Qrow rubbed at his head and looked around the room, just trying to figure out what had happened. He’d thought that he’d come home with someone and that it had gotten excessively _weird_ but…

That couldn’t be it. He’d just had a weird dream. The injuries on his leg were the result of a run in with an ursa earlier the day before, he was pretty sure.

This wouldn’t be the first time that he’d ended up in a situation like this one.

He stumbled out of bed and crossed the room to grab his bag. A quick look at it revealed that there was a note pinned to it that read quite plainly:

 

> _It was nice spending time with you at the bar tonight. You left this by one of the tables, wouldn’t want to lose anything. Good luck in your travels._
> 
> _With Love,_
> 
> _TC_

It was weird, but Qrow tried not to pay it too much mind. Qrow opened the bag up and checked for anything that was out of place, only to find that his dossier had gone missing. That was no matter, he figured that he’d probably lost it sometime during his travelling. It sucked, but he could deal with it. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d had to backtrack for it before.

Bad luck and all of that.

Qrow went about the rest of the morning as easily as he could, and when it was finally time to go, he dragged himself out of the inn in Mistral, without any sort of clue that there was anything wrong.

All just the result of a weird, incredibly dream, he would have to guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all comments and criticism are greatly appreciated.
> 
> [I'm on tumblr. Sometimes stuff happens. I'm always willing to take questions there!](http://tyrian-callows.tumblr.com/)


End file.
